Broken Hearts Do Heal
by Elizabeth Joan-hbndgirl
Summary: On their way back from New York on a snowy night, Fenton, Frank, and Joe come across a car accident. Part 7 of the Chapters series.
1. The Storm

J.M.J.

 _A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading this story. It's going to be a short one, only a few chapters. It is part of the_ Chapters Series _, which there are six other stories in. If you haven't read the others, that's okay. Everything pertinent to this story will get explained again. Of course, that means major spoilers for the other stories in this series. This one is meant to tie up a few loose ends that I left in the last story,_ All Roads Lead to Rome _. I'm posting it all at once because why not? I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think about it._

 _ **Broken Hearts Do Heal**_

Chapter I

The Storm

The clouds were covering the bright face of the moon so that it was invisible, and the snow blew so hard that it would have been difficult to see very many yards ahead even in daylight. As it was, the headlights of Fenton Hardy's car barely pierced the darkness for a few feet. Then, too, the blowing snow made the road treacherous and difficult to determine where the pavement ended, forcing Fenton to drive at a snail's pace.

His older son, Frank, was sitting in the front passenger seat, leaning forward and trying to make out the road ahead. Frank was twenty-five, dark-haired, and very smart. Of course, intelligence ran strong in the detective family, but Frank seemed to have received extra on that score. He had been married for a year exactly to his high school sweetheart, Callie Shaw Hardy, and they were expecting their first child in July, six months away. They had spent their first year of marriage in Rome, while Callie finished her degree in art, but they had just returned about a month ago, in time for Christmas, and now they were home in Bayport to stay.

Joe, the younger of Fenton's two sons, had claimed the back seat. He was still recovering from a knife wound in his right calf from about seven weeks earlier, and he found it more comfortable to be able to sit with his leg stretched out along the seat. He was blond, twenty-four, and generally a jokester. However, he had come close to drowning shortly after receiving the knife wound, and he hadn't quite been the same since. He could still crack a joke at a moment's notice, but he had become quieter, humbler, and more introspective since then.

Frank and Joe had been working with their dad in his detective work since they were in high school – unofficially back then, of course. They had gotten their private investigators license as soon as each one finished the bachelor's degrees in college, and then they had officially joined Fenton and his partner, Sam Radley, at their detective agency. However, things were soon to change.

Callie worried about the danger of Frank's work, especially now that she was expecting. Frank himself had been forced to kill a man to save Joe's life, and it wasn't sitting well with him. He wanted something different, something to distance himself from that horrible day and that would cause Callie less concern. Following a suggestion from Joe and after talking it over thoroughly with Callie and his parents, Frank decided that he would begin a graduate program in the fall to study forensics, a degree with which he could still do detective work, but of a much safer nature, and also fulfill a need in the community.

However, at the moment, all three of them were thinking more about their current predicament than any of that. They were on their way back from New York where Fenton had been asked to speak at a police conference. Frank and Joe had accompanied him, since it had been well over a year since they had spent a fun weekend together. The weekend had been very fun and relaxing and a good chance for the three of them to get reacquainted, but the drive home was proving to be much less so.

"Maybe we should have waited until tomorrow morning," Frank commented.

"That's when the storm was supposed to hit," Fenton reminded him. "We thought we'd be able to beat it home."

"We almost did," Frank acknowledged. "We can't be more than twenty miles from Bayport."

"Might as well be a hundred miles in this storm," Fenton went on.

They drove on in silence for a few miles more, the car crawling along at barely ten miles an hour. Even at that speed, it began to slide several times, giving the three men in it a few moments of worry.

When they got to a tree-lined portion of the highway, visibility got a little better, since the trees blocked the wind, but the road was no less slick, and so they could make no faster progress.

Frank's phone began to ring, and he answered it promptly. "Hi, honey."

"Are you all right, Frank?" Callie asked from the other end of the phone. "With the storm and everything and you being on the road…"

"Don't worry," Frank reassured her. "We're fine. We're getting close to home, but we have to drive slow." He paused, waiting for her to reply, but there was nothing. "Callie? Callie, are you still there?" He took the phone from his ear and saw that there was no reception. "I hope she heard most of that," he commented. "Getting cut off might make her worry more."

"She's got a point," Fenton conceded. "We'll have to take the long way. There's no way we'll get down Shore Road in this storm."

Shore Road, which was the quickest way back to Bayport, climbed up on the cliffs over Barmet Bay, the horseshoe-shaped inlet where the town lay. It wound and twisted along the edge of the cliffs, and at some points had drops of about a thousand feet on one side.

"No kidding," Joe spoke up from the back, "but what if we can't get across Willow River either?"

Their other possible route included a bridge across the Willow River. A storm like this would make it treacherous to cross.

"We'll just have to see when we get there," Fenton replied philosophically. "If we can't get across, we'll just have to park and wait for the storm to let up. There are some blankets in the trunk, and we've all got extra clothes along. We'll be fine."

"There's a light up ahead." Frank pointed out a dim, red light that was just barely visible through the storm. "Do you think it could be a house?"

"I think it's another car," Fenton said after looking at it carefully for a couple of minutes. "It looks like a taillight."

As they approached, the light didn't move. Finally, they were close enough to see the outline of the car clearly. It was mostly off the road with the front end crunched against the trunk of a tree. Fenton instinctively started braking.

"They must have slid off the road," Joe observed, leaning forward as much as he could so that he could see better.

Once Fenton had the car stopped, all three Hardys jumped out to see if they could help anyone who might be inside the wrecked vehicle. Frank reached the car first, tapping on the driver window. Fenton arrived a moment later, having taken a minute to grab a flashlight which he now shone through the window. There was a man slumped over the steering wheel and the remains of the airbag, but there didn't appear to be anyone else in the car. Joe reached the car last, limping on his injured leg.

"The doors are locked," Frank announced after going all the way around the car and trying all of them.

"Are we still out of cell reception?" Fenton asked.

Both Frank and Joe checked their phones, but both showed that the area was completely dead.

"If we have to go for help, it could take hours," Frank said, "if we can even get to any help."

"We'll just have to break in, then," Joe replied. He shone his phone's light through the window and saw that the locks were the type that pushed down. Then he crouched down, wincing at the pressure to his wounded leg. He quickly pulled one of the laces out of his shoes and tied a loop with a slipknot in the middle. Then he went around to the passenger side, where he was less likely to do any damage, and worked the shoelace down from the corner of the door. It took a few tries before he was able to get the loop around the lock, but he finally managed it and pulled it tight. Then he pulled the lock up and opened the door.

He pressed the unlock button so that his dad and Frank could get through the driver door, and then he climbed into the passenger seat. Frank checked for the man's carotid pulse and was relieved to find that it was strong. Then Fenton shone the flashlight over him, looking for any injuries.

Just then, the man groaned and stirred. He reached one hand up to his hand, mumbling, "What?"

"Hey," Frank said, reaching out to him. "Just sit still. What hurts?"

Ignoring Frank's instructions, the man sat up and leaned back against the seat. Fenton's light shone full in his face, and all three Hardys started as they recognized him.

Joe was the first to speak. "It's Tyler."


	2. Stranded

J.M.J.

Chapter II

Stranded

It took a few moments of staring in stupefied surprise before Joe realized he needed to act. Tyler Hereford was one of the few people who always made Joe uncomfortable when he was around him. It wasn't really Tyler's fault; actually, Tyler was a nice guy. The problem was that Tyler was dating Iola Morton, now that Joe and Iola had broken up. To make matters worse, Iola had asked the two of them to talk to each other and to try to come to some kind of understanding, but Joe had been putting it off now for almost two months. Every time he happened to see Tyler, he was reminded of what he would inevitably have to do, but that a part of him was trying to put off.

That didn't matter right now, though. Right now, all that mattered was that Tyler was injured and needed help.

"What should we do, Dad?" Frank asked. "Should we try putting him in our car and getting him to town?"

Fenton bit his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. He could have back or neck injuries. We shouldn't move him until we know for sure."

"We don't have a lot of choice," Joe pointed out. "It would take too long and be too risky to leave him here and try to get to town, or at least to where we have cell reception, and then the ambulance would have to get all the way out here."

"Whether we can take that risk or not depends on how serious his injuries are," Fenton replied. "None of us have the medical knowledge to assess that."

"Well, we've got to do something," Frank said. "It looks like he's passed out again. It wasn't that far back that my phone had reception. Maybe if we went back up there, we could get a call out."

Fenton nodded. "That sounds like the best plan. Joe, you'd better stay here with him. I'll get you both some blankets. I'll go with Frank in case he has some trouble."

He retrieved two blankets from the trunk, as well as Joe's bag with his extra clothes in it. Then he and Frank headed back up the road, hopeful that their errand would only take a few minutes. Frank watched his phone constantly for the moment that it would register that there was cell reception, but it seemed that they had gone much farther than they should have and it still registered nothing.

Then the car slipped on the treacherous surface of the road. Fenton tried to steer and brake, but the road was too slick for it to make any difference. Fortunately, they were going slowly, but even then the car slid off the pavement and buried itself in a snowdrift.

For a moment, Fenton and Frank sat there, saying nothing. Then Frank said, "Great. Now we're stuck."

"Maybe we can push it out," Fenton suggested.

He and Frank worked at that with no success and finally had to give up to crawl back into the car and warm up. Neither of them liked to admit it, but the situation was grim. Not only could they not call for help for Tyler, but they themselves were stuck until the storm let up and help would find them.

"I hope Joe's all right," Fenton commented, turning up the heat a little.

"I guess this wasn't such a good idea after all," Frank said. He glanced out the window at the snow swirling through the darkness. "The storm can't keep up too much longer, though."

"I doubt anyone will come past before morning regardless," Fenton replied.

Frank swallowed, but he replied as cheerfully as he could, "We'll be fine. And Joe will be fine. He knows how to deal with situations like this."

Time dragged by frustratingly slowly. Fenton kept the engine idling so that they could keep the heater on, and so they were comfortable enough, though they couldn't help thinking about Joe and Tyler and wondering how they were faring.

"Dad," Frank said suddenly, "could I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," Fenton replied. "What is it?"

Frank took a breath. "Do you think I'm making a mistake? About the forensics, I mean."

It took Fenton a moment to answer. They had talked this over several times, and Frank had seemed to be pleased with his decision. There must be something still bothering him, though, for him to be bringing it up again. "No, of course not. Why would it be a mistake?"

"Maybe because of why I'm doing it," Frank replied. He could feel his emotions rising and was fighting against them. He had to face this thing logically. "After what happened with Enrico… after I killed him…" He swallowed hard. "I just can't face it. I still am awake at night, seeing the whole thing over and over again in my head. It's been almost two months, and it still is following me everywhere. So, I… Do you think… I don't know."

"Frank." Fenton placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "You're not going to get over this in two months. Not in two years. I've been through this, too. Oh, sure, during all my police training, they tried to prepare me for it as well as they could, but you can't really be prepared for something like that."

"How did you learn to live with it?" Frank asked.

"I don't know," Fenton admitted. "I guess by not thinking about it too much."

"Isn't that the same as running away, trying to hide?"

"No," Fenton told him. "There's nothing to hide from. Right now, you feel like everything's changed. That nothing can or should be the way it was."

"But it's not the same, Dad," Frank insisted.

"In some ways, maybe," Fenton conceded, "but in a lot of ways, it is. Right now, you're thinking of yourself as a killer. You're not."

"I killed a man," Frank faltered. "That's what a killer is."

"You didn't kill him," Fenton said. "That man killed himself."

"Dad," Frank protested.

"It's true. I wanted to know exactly what had happened, but I didn't want to make you tell me if you didn't want to. Joe can't remember any of it clearly, so I called George Fayne and asked her to tell me all about it."

"Then you know I killed him," Frank replied.

"From what she told me, it sounds like Enrico wanted you to kill him," Fenton said. "He knew the game was up and the best he could possibly hope for was life in jail. He would have rather died than that, so he forced you to shoot. It happens a lot, actually. A criminal doesn't have the guts to face their punishment, but they also still have that inborn taboo against killing themselves, so they take the easiest and most cowardly way out: forcing the officer or whoever has them cornered into killing them."

"I doesn't change the fact that that's what I did."

"You didn't have a choice," Fenton told him again. "Well, you did have a choice. Your other option was to let him kill Joe and, if you didn't shoot him then, probably kill you and George, too. You made the right choice."

"Then why does it feel so wrong?" Frank asked.

"I think you know why. You're a good man, Frank, and I'm proud of you."

The reassurance calmed some of Frank's fears and guilt, but one loomed as large as ever. "Thanks, Dad. Do… do you think my son or daughter could ever be proud of me after this? How am I going to face them, knowing what I've done?"

"I thought the same thing," Fenton replied. "I thought, especially after I killed Cliff Moriare and it turns out he wasn't even armed, I thought there was no way you and Joe would ever understand. I thought I'd have to wait for you to grow up before you'd understand it, but I was wrong. You did understand everything except for why I had so little confidence in you. Don't worry, Frank. Your kids will see, too."

"But, Dad, it's easy with you," Frank protested. "I don't see how I could be even half as great a dad as you are."

Fenton chuckled. "You'll need to set your bar higher than that. But don't worry, Frank, you're going to do just fine."

Frank still had his doubts, but his father's words helped. Maybe, just maybe, it would be all right after all, in time.


	3. Rescue

J.M.J.

Chapter III

Rescue

Joe shivered and pulled the blanket up farther. His dad and Frank were taking longer than they should have. They must have run into trouble. Hopefully, they hadn't had the same misfortune Tyler had.

Even as Joe was thinking that, Tyler stirred again and woke up with a groan. "What happened?" he asked groggily.

"You were in an accident," Joe told him. "I think you're going to be okay, though."

Tyler sat up straighter and looked around him in confusion. "What are you doing here? Where are the firemen and paramedics? Why hasn't somebody gotten me out yet?"

"Hey, relax," Joe told him. "My dad and brother and I found you. With the storm, we can't call for help, so they went to go get some. It will take a while, though, since the snow is making the roads hard to travel."

"Why didn't you call someone?" Tyler asked, his voice rising with panic.

"There's no reception," Joe explained again, even though he had just told Tyler that. He decided against telling Tyler about his concerns for his dad and brother. "What hurts? Your back, neck?"

"Mostly just my head," Tyler replied, calming down a little. "I must have hit it when I crashed. Probably have a concussion."

"It's pretty likely," Joe agreed. "But if that's all, they'll be able to fix you up at the hospital no problem."

"If you get me there." Concern was evident in Tyler's voice again. "Can't you die of a concussion if you don't get it treated?"

"You're not going to die," Joe told him, purposely speaking a little flippantly in hope that that would help calm Tyler's fears. "You're awake and talking, and as long as you stay that way, you'll be fine. I've had enough concussions to know. What were doing out here tonight, anyway?" He thought the best thing to do was to take Tyler's mind off his injuries.

"I was up visiting Iola today," Tyler said. "I had to get back up to Northport for work tomorrow. Thought this way would be safer than Shore Road."

"Yeah, we thought the same thing, too. It probably is, though. I mean, after all, it would have been a lot worse if you had slid right off the cliff."

"I guess I'm about the last person you'd want to have to sit around in a stranded car in a blizzard with," Tyler commented after a few moments.

Joe shrugged. "I don't particularly want to be stranded at all, I guess. What makes you say that?"

"You know as well as I do," Tyler replied. "Iola. You know, we never had that talk. Now seems like as good a time as ever."

"I don't know," Joe said. "I think it might be better sometime when you're feeling better. It might not be an easy talk for either of us."

Tyler shook his head. "No. I need to know now. Are you still in love with her?"

Joe hesitated. "What difference does it make whether I am or not?"

"I need to know, because she doesn't want you out of her life entirely, and if you're still in love with her, then maybe…"

"I'm not," Joe told him abruptly. "I was in love with her, but not now. I still care about her, though, and I want her to be happy, so the only trouble I'll cause for you is if you hurt her somehow."

"She's been hurt enough," Tyler said. "You're not really one to talk when it comes to that." He paused in embarrassment as he realized that this was probably not the most grateful thing to say to someone who was trying to save his life.

Joe nodded understandingly. "I know. I know what you probably think of me. I'm not going to make any excuses. I was in the wrong, and I needed a wake-up call to see that. When I finally realized it, it was too late."

"And now that you realize it?" Tyler prodded.

"I asked Iola not that long ago if she'd come back to me," Joe admitted after a short pause. "She wouldn't. She said she wanted to stay with you. So, I don't think you have anything to worry about from me."

"That's good to know," Tyler said. "But if you even asked her to come back…"

"I won't ask her again. Something happened after that. It's a little hard to explain, but really, I see now that it's a good thing the way things turned out. I mean it."

"Well, I'm not so sure I'd say so if I was in your place," Tyler replied. "There aren't any other girls like Iola."

"No," Joe agreed. "You're very lucky. Don't ever take it for granted."

"I won't." Tyler leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

"That's probably enough talking about serious things for the moment," Joe said, "although we probably ought to keep talking. Like I said, I don't think you have anything to worry about, but if you do have a concussion, you don't want to fall asleep."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"So, how do you like your job? Whatever it is, that is," Joe asked.

Tyler smiled slightly. "I'm a computer programmer."

"Oh, yeah. I remember Iola mentioning that now," Joe said. "How do you like it?"

"The work itself is great," Tyler said, "but the place I work for is less so. I've applying all over in the city, trying to get something better, but no luck so far. I have a standing offer of a job with my uncle's company, but it's in San Diego."

"That's a long ways away," Joe agreed. "If you're working with family, though, that helps, probably."

"Most of my family is in San Diego," Tyler replied. "I just came back east for college and, well, decided it was worth staying here. I wouldn't mind going back, but only if Iola is willing."

Joe nodded, though it was a little reluctantly. "That would be really different for her."

"I haven't asked her yet," Tyler admitted. "I mean, she knows about the standing offer and that I'm thinking about taking it, but I haven't asked her if she would be willing to come with me yet. She's not really a city girl, is she?"

"Not really."

"If she doesn't want to go, I'll just have to find something else around here," Tyler said with resolution. "How about you? Like your job?"

"Most of the time," Joe replied. "I'm not crazy about getting kidnapped or stabbed or beaten up or almost shot or stuff like that, but otherwise, it's great."

"Does that sort of thing happen often?" Tyler looked incredulous.

"All of those happened on my last case." Even as he said it, another thought came into Joe's mind, and he was quiet for several seconds before he realized he hadn't given a very complete answer to Tyler's question. "Oh, but it doesn't typically happen. Mostly, it's just routine stuff, like stakeouts, research, boring stuff like that, and then doing tons of paperwork on the boring stuff. Dad insists that we keep a log, just like he did when he was with the police. It's still fun, though."

"But?"

"But it's not quite like it was back when my brother and I were amateur detectives," Joe admitted. "And now Frank's not going to work as many active cases, if he works any at all, and things will be even more different again. I guess changes never stop happening, huh?"

"But that's a good thing," Tyler said. "Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. I mean, take me for example. I was going to go to college at UCLA and stay with my older sister who lives near there. But then her husband got a new job and they had to move, so staying with them wasn't an option anymore, and I couldn't afford to pay the tuition and find a place to live in LA or stay in the dorms. Then I got offered a scholarship to a college over here, and I can't say I've regretted coming here."

"I'd know you had a concussion then," Joe teased him.

"Well, you do have to admit the weather here leaves something to be desired compared to San Diego," Tyler continued the banter. "Especially at the moment."

"For every good thing, there's a price." Then Joe said more seriously, "You're right, though. I think sometimes things change in ways we don't like to make it easier to make hard decisions." Then he paused. "Do you hear that?"

Tyler listened for a moment. "It sounds like a car."

"It could be Dad and Frank coming back," Joe said hopefully. "I'll get out and wave them down, just in case they somehow miss the car."

The wind was beginning to die down, and so Joe wasn't met with quite the icy blast he had prepared himself for. He could see the headlights of a car approaching from the opposite direction that his dad and brother had taken; clearly, it wasn't them. Nevertheless, he limped out behind Tyler's car and waved. The approaching vehicle stopped. Joe realized with relief that it was a police car.

"What happened?" the officer asked, jumping out of his car. "Were you in an accident?"

"Not me," Joe replied. "My dad and brother and me came across this wreck about half an hour ago. We couldn't get a call out for help from here, so they went back up the road to see if they could find reception. I'm starting to worry that they might have gotten stuck, too, though. They've been gone a long time."

"I'll call for backup," the officer said. "The radio should work from here at any rate. How bad off is the driver?"

"He hit his head, but otherwise he seems fine," Joe replied. "He should go to the hospital, though."


	4. Broken Hearts Do Heal

J.M.J.

Chapter IV

Broken Hearts Do Heal

Joe was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. He had been given a ride back to town along with Tyler and right now was waiting for his dad and Frank, who had only gotten stuck rather than being in a more serious accident, to arrive to pick him up and take him back home. He was ready for a good night's sleep.

He was about to doze off now when he was suddenly aware that someone had sat down next to him. He jumped involuntarily and saw that it was Iola Morton. She looked confused and surprised.

"Hi," she greeted him briefly and then immediately went on, "Did something happen? Or why are you here?"

"Oh," Joe said, "I'm just waiting for Dad and Frank. The police gave me a ride here when they brought Tyler in."

"You were with Tyler?" Iola asked, her confusion growing.

"We were the ones who found him," Joe explained. "I stayed with him while Dad and Frank went for help."

"Oh." Iola bit her lip. "Thanks. Do you know how he's doing?"

"I haven't heard officially," Joe said, "but he seemed all right to me. I'd be surprised if there was anything serious."

Iola relaxed with relief. "That's good. They just told me that he'd been in a car accident, and I've been imagining the worst." Then she paused. This was an awkward meeting. Other than saying hello when they had happened to meet around town or at friend's houses, she and Joe hadn't had a real conversation since before he'd gone on that fateful trip to Rome about two months ago, and given what that last conversation had been about and what had happened since then, Iola wasn't sure what to say.

Joe could sense Iola's discomfort as she debated whether or not to point out the elephant in the room. He wasn't so sure he wanted to have that conversation now himself, at least not in the middle of a waiting room in a public hospital, so he did his best to smooth things over. "Tyler's car is going to need some work, though. Think Chet can get him a discount with the mechanic shop he works for?"

"I doubt it," Iola said, not in the mood to take the teasing any way but literally. "This is the last thing Tyler needs right now. He's got a lot of stress about work and…" She trailed off.

"I'm sure he'll take in stride," Joe commented. "He just needs to get up the courage to say what he wants."

"So, he told you about it?" Iola asked.

"A little," Joe said. "We had some time to talk."

"He wants to go back to California, you know," Iola replied, "but he doesn't want to leave me behind. He hasn't said so straight out because he knows I'm not so crazy about the idea of moving so far away. But maybe it would be for the best. Maybe if you and I could stop running into each other all the time, you could forget…"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Joe interrupted. "I couldn't forget you, and I don't want to. But don't factor me into your decision. You need to just worry about what's best for you and Tyler."

Iola took in a deep breath. "Joe, right before you left, when you asked me if I would consider going back to you, did you mean it?"

For a moment, Joe looked straight ahead, stalling for time, but then he looked Iola straight in the eyes. "I did then, but now I'm glad you said no. I'm starting to realize that what happened between us happened for a reason."

"When I heard that you almost… died and I thought about how I'd broken your heart again, I didn't know what to do. I felt like I must be the most horrible person in the world, but you know, I couldn't have left Tyler even then. I love him, Joe. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, even if it does mean moving all the way to California."

"I'm glad," Joe said. "Really. It's good to know that you're happy, especially after everything I've done. I hope you can forgive me."

Iola felt her throat tighten. "After what I did to you and the things I thought about you and the things I said to you, you're asking if I can forgive you? Every time I think about it, I feel sick and wonder how you could have forgiven me."

"You wouldn't have thought it if I hadn't given you a reason to," Joe replied. "All those years we were together, I was so self-absorbed in my own issues, I didn't even bother to think about yours, let alone help you like I should have. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's all right," Iola assured. "Like you said, there was a reason for what happened between us. I've found Tyler now, and you're free to find someone who can make you happy. After all, it never would have worked out between us."

"I think it's time we admitted it could have," Joe said.

Iola blinked in surprise. That was something she had taken for granted for a long time now. "What do you mean? We want such different things; how could have we ever made it work out?"

"If we had wanted each other more than those other things, we could have," Joe replied. "Couples have to work things like that out all the time. Just look at Frank and Callie. They want different things, but they're figuring it out because they want each other more. It's not easy for them, but they'll make it work. It doesn't mean we have to rethink our decisions. If anything, it means we made the right decision. We do both have to admit it, though, if either of us ever want to make another relationship work."

"I guess you're right," Iola conceded. "Tyler and I are going to have to make a decision like that about California. Things never are easy, are they?"

"Not worthwhile ones," Joe said.

"You're sure you're okay?" Iola asked. "You're not just trying to soldier through this and put on a brave face so I don't feel bad, even though I should? I know I hurt you terribly when I accused you of all that and didn't even give you a chance to explain."

"You did," Joe admitted. "Nothing that's ever happened to me hurt worse than that, and I didn't recover for a long time. Honestly, I didn't I ever would. Then, when I almost died… It's a little hard to explain and probably just sounds dumb, but I had this dream or something. I don't know that what was in it will happen. I mean, I don't think we just get visions of the future like that, but it did make me think. I've got a lot of life left to live, and I don't want to miss it by holding onto what could have been. I think broken hearts do heal, if we let them, and mine's well on the road to recovery. So, don't worry about it, Iola. What's in the past is in the past. Let's leave it there."

"You're really quite a guy," Iola said. "Thanks. I still wish I could make it up to you somehow, though."

"The best way to make it to me is to let it alone," Joe assured her. He looked up and saw his dad and Frank on the other end of the room, hesitating about whether they should break in on the conversation or not. "I've got to go, Iola. I'll see you around. Tell Tyler I hope he gets out of here soon, but not so soon that he doesn't get out of work for a couple of days."

Iola smiled. "I'll tell him. And thanks again."

Joe smiled back and waved. Then he went on his way, limping on his injured leg. That would heal, though, just as all his wounds were healing. He couldn't let them hold him chained forever. As he had said, he had a lot of life left to live.

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading and especially to anyone will (or has, by the time you read this) review, favorite, or follow this story. I appreciate your support and encouragement._

 _There could be another story in this series after this. I have a kernel of an idea for it, but the spark's kind of going out for this series. Partially, that's because I have an idea for another ND/HB arc that I think will be really fun and that I'd like to write. Whatever I write next, however, I'm going to take a break for a while. I might get started on a story in that time, but I need some time to recharge before I would start posting it._

 _Once again, thank you all for being so great!_

 _~hbndgirl_


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